Thoughts on social impact and choosing a career for someone who doesn’t exist yet. Read this if you’re figuring it out too, or if you’re confused by my trajectory.

In stereotypical Asian households, you’ve got three options: be a doctor, a lawyer, or a failure.

Under social pressures and an Asian father, med school was the obvious choice. I apparently had the brains for it. I’d wanted it since I was six years old and sitting in my grandmother’s lap, learning about vasodilation and vasoconstriction (true story). It’s a stable, respectable career helping others with scientific knowledge. It makes sense.

So, why’d I turn away, and, as GAMSAT season rolls around, why am I continuing to stay away?

The kind of impact I wanted to make

Long story short, I don’t think med school would help me make the kind of impact I want to make.

Let’s rewind. I’d spent my childhood preparing for med school, but, when I turned sixteen, I encountered two things.

First was the concept of effective altruism, which made me reconsider how my career could best serve society. I began asking myself the following question—how can I maximise the social good my career creates?—and haven’t stopped since.

The second was the story of ex-medical doctor turned learning coach Dr Justin Sung. I found him through iCanStudy, a programme teaching students (and, nowadays, professionals) not just how to study, but how to truly learn. Dr Sung shared bits and pieces of his story of quitting medicine throughout the course.

He’s since compiled his insights into this YouTube video, but, basically, as a high school student, after hearing his story, I was worried I’d do the following: become a doctor, see flaws in systems I had no power to change, burn out, and quit entirely.

I don’t think I quite knew what all of that entailed at the time (I still don’t, although I’ve learnt more since), but it didn’t sound fun. Even then, I hated inefficiency and detested the idea of wanting to help people but not being able to.

I began wondering if being a medical doctor was the right choice for me.

Let’s come back to the present; I’m writing this in 2026. A few weeks ago, I attended cancer specialist Dr Dominique Yoo Young Lee’s book talk for her memoir What’s Been Broken Is All The More Sharp.

The book itself is a testament both to personal strength and to the concept of strength in numbers. During the book talk, though, we had an insightful discussion about environments that maintain the status quo, hierarchies that perpetuate power, and how those who enter medicine wanting to do good are often—explicitly or implicitly—punished into leaving the system.

Disclaimer: the few that survive

I’m not saying that it’s impossible to drive change as a doctor. Clinician-researchers bridge the gaps between research and practice every day, and, I mean, just look at Dr Lee. Like her father says in her book: if you survive to become an administrator or a department head or to occupy some other position of power, you can sway the system. By that point, you’ve hopefully surrounded yourself with people who want the same changes you do, and can leverage strength in numbers.

I just don’t think medicine’s the path for me.

(I’ll leave the medical system to my friends; at least two of them are taking the GAMSAT this weekend. Good luck, you guys!)

Choosing a career for someone who doesn’t exist yet

If I may be blunt: it’s stupid certain education systems make sixteen year olds choose what they’ll do for the next sixty years. Although we as humans never stop changing (ideally), from a developmental psychology perspective, our teens and twenties are perhaps the most rapid periods of change.

This dispels the ‘end of history’ myth or illusion, debunked by people ranging from psychologist Dan Gilbert to political scientist Francis Fukuyama. The illusion involves how we all think we’re pretty much the final of ourselves—we won’t change much beyond how we currently are—but that’s simply not the case.

For example, this study by Quoidbach et al (which includes Gilbert) found that people of all ages described more change in the past 10 years of their lives than they would have predicted 10 years ago.

Know that I’m not the final version of myself (my knowledge is limited and there’s no way I can predict who I’ll become, as much as I want to think I can), I arrived at the following question: how can I possibly choose a career for someone who doesn’t exist yet?

Training for a career that doesn’t exist yet

I’ll keep this section short. I’m part of Gen Z. For years, it’s been painfully clear to my generation that the future is uncharted, so we’re all under stress. The way most fields—and the roles within them—are changing rapidly, so we don’t know what roles will exist by the time we’re in the job market.

Some choose to focus on what they can control. Others choose to give up entirely; think the lie-flat movement. Perhaps I’m naive, but I’ve decided to try to believe that I can influence societal change, and am working towards building a versatile skillset that can adapt to whatever needs solving.

Okay, but what kind of societal change, and how?

Frankly, I don’t know. I genuinely don’t know what cause area(s) I’d go into or what impact I’d make within them, but I think about it constantly. Gen Z slang might call social impact my Roman Empire.

I take notes when I see others doing interesting work. For example, in my notes are Cheaper Buy Miles, a discount grocer serving as a multi-pronged answer to food waste and the cost-of-living crisis. Super cool place.

I also talk to people (classmates, local business owners, strangers) to understand what problems people face and what they think the solutions could involve. In the business world, it’s called being ‘customer-obsessed’, but I’m not looking to sell to a customer; I’m looking to serve our community.

By the time I figure out what needs to be done, I want the skills to be able to do it.

The principles behind my next steps

After reading Range by David Epstein, I was pretty convinced I needed to be a seasoned generalist in order to make the kind of impact I wanted. Getting a degree was one of the steps, but I’d ruled out medicine, so I decided on education.

Whilst reading around to prepare for my education interviews (sociology, psychology, politics, labour economics), I began shaping the following principles:

1. Have a wide range of experiences—try many things deeply—for two reasons:
   1. To enhance match quality between myself and whatever I end up doing
   2. To develop diversity of thought and problem-solving skills
2. Degree-wise, I need something that can train versatility.
   1. (Or, at the very least, something that would give me credibility.)
3. To make an actual impact, I’d have to bridge the gaps between research and practice, or policy and practice.
   1. I need on-the-ground, hands-on experience.

Where I currently am

Work-wise, I’m a co-founder and the Executive Director of Riverbed Collective, an artist-led social enterprise, and I’m on the steering committee of Hong Kong Women in Publishing Society, the oldest literary organisation of its kind in the city.

Academically, after a series of trials and tribulations, I’ve ended up studying neuroscience at the University of Melbourne. At Unimelb, I’ve tried to expose myself to new perspectives, which are forming the foundations of how I think systemic change might occur.

(If you’re curious)

• Critical criminology
• Indigenous values, cultural safety, and diplomacy (this one line summary cannot possibly do it justice, but shoutout to Tiriki, Leah, MJ, and all at the Wilin Centre)
• How digital platforms might be regulated (A/Prof Jake Goldenfein, my goat)
• The intersections between law, science, and technology (A/Prof James Parker, another goat)

Keeping things open

I will make one disclaimer here. I am doing a neuroscience degree, and postgraduate medicine is technically still on the table.

While (to my father’s dismay) I don’t think I’m going back to medicine, I also don’t want to fall victim to the ‘end of history’ myth, rule being a clinician-researcher out entirely, and laugh when I rediscover this article of mine. After all, I am quite interested in certain topics, and I read things like this for fun.

When I’m asked why I’ve chosen a rather unconventional path, here’s how I usually respond

I’m focused on building transferrable skills whilst exploring different fields/ways in which I can make an impact. This is because:

1. The ‘end of history’ myth or illusion (psychologist Dan Gilbert, political scientist Francis Fukuyama). I know there’s no way I can predict who I’ll become, as much as I want to think I can; hence the ‘end of history’ myth. My knowledge is limited. It is not the end of history for me. How can I pick a specialisation for a person who doesn’t exist yet? Is it even wise to specialise this early? I know I don’t know enough and I want to learn more.
2. My aim for my education is not simply to get a degree. It’s to build skills for systemic change, which I think requires an interdisciplinary approach, integrating both academic and professional skills. I need to put myself in situations that can train my cognitive flexibility and adaptability.

Closing

Apart from insight into how early-stage careers can look, I hope this article provides some comfort to my juniors and mentees, who might be under pressure to have it all figured out right now.

I also hope this article provides some background on the rationale behind my current actions. In a way, this article is a preemptive response to those who think I’m unfocused. While it’s true I don’t permanently stick to one field, it’s a deliberate choice to build skills and cognitive flexibility; to one day become a seasoned generalist who can solve complex issues for our community.

That’s my current aim, at least. We’ll see where my career takes me!

And, again, to my two dear friends taking the Humanities and Biological Sciences section of the GAMSAT this weekend, all the best!